Invasion
by Athena2693
Summary: South Park is invaded by OC's and nobody is safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Invasion**

by Athena2693

_A/N: I'm not usually one for this sort of fic...but everybody gets to the point sometimes. South Park is invaded by OC's and no one is safe._

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Thirteen. Oh, what a wonderful age! Full of new experiences and magical adventures. This enchanting age seemed to have fallen upon the once-children of South Park as if overnight. Even the ones who had been thirteen for so long they were now actually fourteen, as in the case of that Tucker boy. Such was the way of teenagerdom.

What a strange transformation that took place. The girls dropped their dolls and jump ropes in favor of a cellphone in one hand and a tube of lip gloss in the other. While the boys, who had once been so occupied by petty trivialities such as football and video games, now turned their attention to more serious matters, such as football and video games. What a change that has commenced!

Now let us set the scene. Saturday afternoon in the Broflovski household. A crowd of fresh-faced milk-fed lads gather around the glowing hearth of the television, passing between them the pearly white controller of a Nintendo Wii. What is presented in LCD high def imagery? Of course nothing but the familiar faces of Mario and Luigi and all their friends, laughing gaily as they course their way through the perilous yet delightful Rainbow Road. What joyous, innocent times!

Oh! But what do we see here? When we just happen to peek out a lightly frosted window towards the street before us? Why, it's an entire army of girls! And they appear to be marching, hyena style, towards us! Whatever could they want?

The lively scene of the boys in their comradery is brought to a halt by the sudden banging on the door. The sound was foreboding, reminiscent of the clang of a prison cell's door being drawn and locked tight. All the boy's eyes turned towards the sound, a quiver on the lips of a few.

"I'll get it," the resident "nice guy" Butters Stotch offered, hastily pulling himself from the comfort of his favorite seat, namely, one Eric Cartman. Seeing as no one else wished to move for some inexplicable reason, his offer was accepted by absolute stillness.

As the naïve young blond's hand reached for the gleaming crystal door knob, again came that solid, foreboding thud. The pale fingers curled around the knob, slowly turning, the metal inside creaking like an attic door. As the heavy wood slowly swung open to allow the fresh mountain air entrance into the musty living room a terrifying sight greeted the once carefree, larking boys.

A sea of estrogen, in all shapes and sizes and colors. Purple eyes and blue hair and tiny miniskirts and vampire fangs and waves and waves of badly applied makeup.

"Uh, gee girls, can I uh, help you," Butters questioned hesitantly, having no idea who a single one of these ladies were, seeing as he saw no sign of a familiar face. If Wendy or Bebe or Red were in there anywhere they were overshadowed by the sheer number of these new girls.

"Oh my gawd," one of the girls in the front row cried out in indignation. "Don't you recognize your girlfriend when you see her?" Butters looked to the right at the girl who had spoken. She was approximately six foot four with hot pink hair, with purple glittery stripes of course, and was wearing a furry white hat with cat ears. As well as, for some reason, a tiny little t-shirt reading "No, I am NOT a Mexican," despite the fact she obviously was, holding a taco in each hand. As with every other girl out there, Butters had never seen her in his life.

"Who? Me? What?" Before the little blond could get another word out he found himself surfing the wave of almost alien-like females while his wiggling and struggling failed to free him from their constraints. The last thing he heard before being engulfed totally by the screaming, squawking tweens was an obviously masculine voice crying out "Quick! Shut the door before we lose anyone else!" Then everything went black.

* * *

"Wendy?"

"Yeah Bebe?"

"It's already like, two o'clock, should we give up on the guys meeting us for hockey?"

The dark haired girl looked down at her watch, then glanced back up at the ice of Stark's Pond shining in the sun before them.

"Give them fifteen more minutes. If they don't we can just practice our figure skating routine for the show."

"Alright," the blond agreed, turning back to her copy of _For Whom The Bell Tolls_. She truly hated Hemingway. Damn tenth grade honors.

* * *

Should I continue?


	2. Chapter 2

**Invasion – Chapter 2**

_A/N: Guess I have to hurry up and post another part since nobody seemed offended by my last. Usually I prefer doing longer chapters but in the case of these sort of fics, shorter's probably better._

* * *

The deafening screams of Butters as he was hauled away by the mass of totally unrealistic yet somehow existent girls was heart-wrenching, but the boys in the household knew there was nothing that could now be done to save the naïve blond. He should've been warned. How had they failed to have educated him on such horrific matters? Such a widespread and engulfing dilemma?

Alas, it was too late now.

"P, pardon me," a high, rather polite-sounding voice, tinged with fear, cut through the stillness, "I'm not quite sure what I was just unfortunate enough to have witnessed. Could somebody please explain?"

All eyes in the room turned towards the towheaded blond who had spoken, then shifted to the dark, pale individual beside him, accusingly. Another one? What had Damien been thinking? Not warning his lover of what lurked out there, on the edge of humanity. Beings of darkness and evil. Not quite human, but not quite beast. Something else entirely. They could understand Cartman not mentioning it to Butters, he was nothing but a sex slave to him, but Damien? Glowering, overprotective Damien?

Well at least this one they could still save. He had been spared, for the moment anyway. Pip hadn't been blind-sided like poor, poor, innocent Butters. Still, there was no saying what would come next. The town had been invaded and truly, none of them were safe now. Not from...

"Mary Sues," a deep voice spoke from a darkened corner. Despite the bright winter sunlight washing in through the large picturesque windows, somehow this corner remained as black as night. Like somebody, perhaps an epic sort of mouse, had smeared over the entire area with a dripping black quill. A burning red dot, a smoldering ember, moved through the darkness, up towards where a head would be level on an average-sized man. The dot burned brighter for a moment, and a cloud of acrid smoke drifted upwards through the impenetrable darkness. "The scourge of the modern day."

This particular voice was a rather distinct, some would even claim dreamy, voice. Rarely heard around these parts unfortunately, for all those who were blessed to encounter it would find themselves as entranced as if the sirens themselves were serenading them. Today, the owner of the voice just happened to have crawled through the Broflovski's upstairs window in an attempt to seek out a certain redhead.

"Pardon? I don't believe I have had the pleasure of making acquaintance with a 'Mary Sue?'"

"Then you're lucky kid," the warm, syrupy voice oozed. His heavy boots echoed off the spotless wooden floor as he stepped out into the sunlight, his tawny eyelids lowered as if the sunlight would burn him to ash right there. A grim expression spread across a lean, handsome face, smeared with dirt and soot. "I've seen this before. In the _Les Miserables_ fandom. I was the only survivor."

"Stop it," a nasally, rather bitchy voice barked out. "You're scaring Tweek."

"Oh, he should be scared," the Frenchman responded, making a sudden swivel in his boots and taking a menacing step to where two boys, one in a blue hat and the other with wild, spiky blond hat, sat, sharing a beanbag chair directly in front of the television. "Do you know what they'll do to him if they get hold of him?"

"What?" The sudden scream from the blond was both shocking and grating, causing several of the boys to jump a foot or two in their seats. Stan grabbed hold of Kyle as they both landed, crushing him against his side protectively.

"He's just trying to scare you Tweek, don't provoke him," Craig spoke with tight lips, rubbing soothing circles on the blond's palm while his other hand stroked his soft yellow hair as if he were a snarling kitten.

"Don't hide it from him Tucker. You know what they'll do. First, they'll take away his coffee, so he can be 'strong' and 'protective' and 'capable.'"

"They wouldn't!" Tweek protested vehemently.

"Christophe, stop it right now," Kyle repeated Craig's earlier command.

"Then, they'll convince him he's in love with one of them. Somebody 'perfect.' Her name will be something like 'Shining Thunder' or 'Miyako Ann Pastel Moonbeam Charlotte Vampira George.' She'll have 'long shimmering black hair with silver highlights and matching eyes that gleam like the moon' or 'the ability to juggle four cats while playing Beethoven on the bass guitar, cooking a souffle, and doing her AP and honors homework.'"

"I'm allergic to cats!" Tweek squeaked out pathetically, tears starting to form in the corner of his big hazel eyes.

"She'll have the personality of a tea cozy," Christophe continued, his voice lowering dramatically. "But somehow, nobody really knows how, maybe it's drugs, maybe it's mind control, she'll make him fall in love with her."

"Ahh! My mind! I need it to think! Craig you promised me if I took off my aluminum foil hat this wouldn't happen!"

"I told you the aliens wouldn't be able to read your thoughts, I never said anything about Mary Sues controlling your brain!'

This wasn't right. They were starting to argue amongst themselves now. It was a bad sign. As if the Mary Sues' gas was already starting to fill the house, leak into their brains, taking control.

"Christophe! I mean it, stop it right now!" The shrill voice of the token Jew was as obvious and non-threatening as a kitten crying for attention. Christophe continued unheeded.

"No Kyle, if he wants to protect himself, he has to know. Tweek, when they have you wrapped around their little finger, simpering after them, complimenting every piece of clothing, every lock of hair, every horrible pun and badly constructed attempt at wit...THEY STRIKE!"

"NO!"

"Yes! _That_ is when you'll find yourself forced to become their sex slave. You'll grow a six-pack and a well pronounced happy trail. Your penis will triple in size, so much it'll probably impede your ability to walk or fit through doors. And somehow, the sight of their wet, oozing, toxic, noxious-"

"NO! IT'LL EAT ME! I HAVE TO ESCAPE! I HAVE TO HIDE! AHHHHH!"

With that simple, yet profound message delivered, the hyperactive coffee addict was out of Craig's lap and up the stairs before another word could be uttered.

And so we come to the end of this chapter.

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Should I even bother continuing?


End file.
